Yesterday my son turned eight, and yes we did celebrate it. Earlier he insisted that his birthday would not count due to it falling on a Monday. He woke up and saw presents and was happy he was having a birthday. Apparently presents trump Mondays for birthday countage.
He has always been my prankster, my jokester, my old before his time little man. From the moment he decided to make his entrance into the world, he laughed, made faces, and took it by storm. He just has a way of saying things that make you laugh, yet he is serious.
Yesterday, taking toys to the car. “I thought about what you said about taking responsibility. I’m taking the toys so you don’t forget them.”
Yesterday during karate when asked to do a different form: “I want to practice this one to get down the little details. They are important.” (what 8 year old boy says that!?!)
He wears “tall” socks and they are usually black.
He watches Mythbusters and MacGyver. He loves to drink “Jack Punch” (hawaiian punch, 7up and sherbert).
He starts his day with “Good Morning Mom,” and ends his day with stories and “don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He is my talker, my socializer, my friendly little boy. He mispronounces words like backpack (“backcack”). Last night he told me “I know it is backpack, I just like how I say it.” I like how you say it too Jack. And when you no longer say it your way, I will mourn the loss of “backcack.”
Yesterday my son turned 8.